


So Damn Confused

by JudeAraya



Category: Glee
Genre: Communication, First Love, M/M, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeAraya/pseuds/JudeAraya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine is so confused, and Kurt really isn't helping. Character study looking back at their relationship from Blaine's POV with focus on events in Sexy, Original Song and New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The absolute first fanfic I'd ever written!

**Title:** So Damn Confused (Part 1/3)  
 **Fandom:** Glee  
 **Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine  
1)

He’s not quite sure how he got to where his is now, half sitting against the edge of a table covered in paste brilliants and sequins; one hand wound into the wool of Kurt’s sweater, just this side of not being able to breathe. And while one half of his brain is stunned, white hot with joy and desire and just ridiculous happiness, the other just cannot seem to shut up.

            Through the whispered sounds of Kurt’s breath and their lips and the benediction of kisses, some slow, some sweet, some winding into some sort of desperation they’ve only just discovered for each other, is a constant litany of worry and doubt. About what he’s doing, if he’s a good kisser, if Kurt is ok, where to put his left hand that’s just been left to awkwardly clutch the edge of the desk. He’s not comfortable, but not willing to move for fear of breaking apart whatever ridiculous good fortune has left him here, eager and so so full. He’s telling himself to shut up, shut up already and just enjoy this, to concentrate and focus, and _oh my god_ that feels so amazing, who knew his neck would be so sensitive, and holy crap _this is Kurt_ , who is whispering, ghosting praise and disbelief against his skin and its so good, so sensitive and he just needs to breath and not worry because Kurt seems fine, everything is fine and thank you so much Pavarotti for dying because ohmygod ohmygod, oh. my. god.

 

2)

 It’s not so much that he knows he must be careful, tread with precision, when it comes to Kurt. It’s just that he is so damn confused.  Kurt’s always been a sort of mystery to Blaine, sometimes completely transparent, painfully honest, utterly sincere. But then there are the moments, the fractured seconds when Kurt feels threatened or unsure or unstable. Faster than a breath he can see when Kurt’s defenses come up, the moments where he folds back into himself, a façade like delicate origami- just a pale imitation of the real thing. And he never knows when he’s going to trip the alarm wire, trigger a retreat that leaves him with bitter Kurt, defensive Kurt, delicately wounded but oh so cold Kurt. Any of the dozens of constructs that Kurt uses.

            At first, Blaine thinks this is just protection. Kurt has been hurt, he had been misunderstood and so wounded. Soon enough though, it became clear that this fortress protected Kurt from more than insults and shoves and malignment.  Blain has learned though, over these months of friendship and confusion and blurred boundaries and inadvertent pain, that any number of things can be seen as a threat to Kurt, up to and including hearing things he doesn’t want to hear or won’t like.  His walls serve to protect, yes, but also to intimidate, shut down, or shut out those who tread too close, too hard.

            Blaine knows that they have a good thing, something special and maybe even once in a lifetime here.  Something kinetic and singular. It has kept him awake night after night, wondering and weighing and trying to understand what the next step would be, should be. After Jeremiah and the gap and the whole sordid mess (and quite a bit of embarrassment and shame), he can’t quite bring himself to even approach love or lust or affection without really considering the ramifications. It had hurt, Jeremiah’s casual and pitying dismissal.  Blaine realized he knew nothing about love, and perhaps not even very much about himself.  If anything, Valentines Day and Kurt’s confession only left him more confused, floundering.

            So he’d thought. And considered, examining himself and Kurt and their friendship from every angle he could find. And in the process of trying not to cause more damage, to at least keep what he had with Kurt safe and whole, he’d damaged it even more. Somehow, he’d managed to give Kurt the wrong impression about his feelings without ever really even knowing what they were, and the realization that he could be so blind and lost and stupid had rocked him.

            He questioned everything. His abilities to be a good friend, his idea of romance, the way he dressed, his ability to love, his sexuality; everything. And in some small way, Kurt had known. Kurt’s ferocity, his staunch loyalty to the person he’d seen in Blaine had hurt yes, only because he was so lost and had so needed something, someone to tell him that it was ok, not to know, to be lost and searching and swimming desperately toward something, someone he was going to be. But in the end, after harsh words and callous behavior and certifiable stupidity, he’d realized that Kurt had been that something and someone, a staunch and unmovable force. He’d known Blaine, even when Blaine didn’t.      

            But it wasn’t until that bird died, until poor sweet Pavi had died, that he’d been sure. Not just that he wanted Kurt, but that he was willing to risk it, willing to try to move in a new direction with Kurt, to close his eyes on a dumb, blind leap of faith, and hope that somehow, they’d land together, safe and whole and perfect and united.

            But that doesn’t mean he has any idea what the hell he is doing. And Kurt, well he isn’t helping. He is slippery and coy,  guarded and careful and so so delicious that it’s a wonder Blaine can even think at all when he’s with him. And Blaine is so tremendously besotted, stunned by Kurt’s beauty, the way his skin is redolent of something almost like comfort and belonging.  He’s trapped himself on a delicate precipice, by turns impulsive and emotional, drugged by Kurt’s touch and skin and the fact that, yeah he can do this now. But he’s also careful, and watchful. Because at the turn of a dime, Kurt will retreat, pull away and in and become so aloof and separate, leaving Blaine confused and needy and almost helpless with confusion. So yes, he knows he must be wary, but he has no real idea why.

 

3)

He tries to read signs. He listens, to Kurt’s breaths and exclamations and the little moans that punctuate their movements and mouths. He documents Kurt’s hands and arms and limbs, the way they sway into and against him, gentle and sweet and needy. 

            But it’s like the rules are always changing. Friday in the back of the car after the movie and he has Kurt in his lap, pliable and nervous, his hands rumpling into the back of Kurt’s jacket and its like they are barely touching, just vibrating in the same space, and when his hand finds it’s way against the skin of Kurt’s back, he’s arching, whisper breaking against Blain’s lips that yes, yes and yes this is nice, and Blains fingers are mapping the rivets and cells and mercy of Kurt’s skin. 

            Sunday is all innocence, books and pens and in Kurt’s case, a calculator, strewn about the floor of Blaine’s dorm room. They are side by side on their stomachs, Blaine conjugating French verbs out loud as he supervises Kurt’s attempts at solving his math problems.  Not even intentional, his foot brushes against Kurt’s, and then it is intentional, a deliberate pass, unspoken. _I’m here. You’re beautiful_.  Before he can guess what’s happened, Kurt is sitting up, rolling up and away and into himself, eyes shifting and nervous and making up some excuse and, _excuse me I forgot I have to call my dad_. Blaine finds himself alone in his room, the sound of his roommate playing Call of Duty too jarring, contemplating his circumstances. If only he knew just what those were.

            They play this game for weeks, Kurt by turns malleable and willing and so so into it, and then at times just not. The slightest touch, a look too long or lingering or hungry perhaps; anything can set him off, and Blaine can almost hear the alarm, the  silent signal to batten down the hatches and protect. He knows well enough by now to understand how this sort of protection works, enough to know that without care and consideration and just the right combination of words and intentions, he’ll never manage to breach any thing long enough to even have a conversation about what the hell is going on.

 

[Next](http://judearaya.livejournal.com/1700.html)


	2. Chapter 2

4)

It’s not so much that he didn’t mean to say it. Just not like that, so sudden and soft and just there. And when he breathes into the long pause that follows, he isn’t scared, or nervous. He trusts this boy, he loves this boy. A sort of ridiculous trust, the way he loves Kurt lies heavy in his body, thrumming under his skin and winding its way into his bones. Saying the words doesn’t really change anything, because it’s just there.

But when Kurt says it back, eyes bright and clear and high, it does change things. Him. And maybe he’ll spend the rest of the day like he would any other, brushing a careful hand against Kurt’s as they stand to leave the coffee shop, stealing looks at his lips and chin and long neck, wishing they were anywhere but here- this public space, this wide expanse that is Ohio, judgment and closed minds and, honestly, danger. Blaine can’t even resent this, because despite all pretense that speaks otherwise, everything is different. Plans to go to New York, a future now more clear and infinitely more achievable, a concrete and tangible show of trust- nothing between them is the same. And one day they’ll be somewhere else, somewhere and he’ll be able to lean over and kiss him, or touch him, or just breathe him in, without being afraid. Watchful and waiting for someone who will be willing to hurt them because they can’t help the way they love any more than anyone else can.

Later, he finds himself cross legged on Kurt’s bed, watching as Kurt re-organizes the countless bottles and jars that constitute his skin care portfolio, he find that he isn’t afraid to speak any more. He’s only afraid of what will happen, should he keep leaning blindly into whatever it is that Kurt is afraid of. What will happen if he doesn’t speak, ask, find some sort of direction. So he speaks.

5)

“Kurt.” Quiet, he doesn’t let himself expect anything. When Kurt looks up, curious and soft and open and so much more real than any pretense Kurt usually carries, Blaine feels it, in his stomach, an ache like longing and arousal and, yes, a little fear. Kurt is staring at him, doing that thing with his eyebrow, interrogatory and sexy all at once.

“Come sit?” He holds out a hand, smiling when Kurt comes without protest. Kurt settles across from him, cross legged as well, knee to knee.

“Everything ok?” Kurt sort of leans down and in, examining his boyfriends face, “You’ve got the strangest look on your face.”

Blaine laughs, trying to recompose his face, wondering why he didn’t plan something to say, why he had no script.

“Yeah I just wanted to talk…” Kurt let the pause wind out, holding Blaine’s hand lightly. Clearing his throat, Blaine tried to convey confidence, and somehow, acceptance that Kurt might read as love and trust and honesty. “I just…I want to be sure you know that I meant it.” Fervent and rich, his voice is low and he’s squeezing Kurt’s fingers.

“I know Blaine.” Kurt’s voice is soft, and he’s looking straight into Blaine’s eyes. “I did too.”

“Good.” He tries to find a way to speak that won’t scare Kurt off, that won’t cause immediate shut down.

“I want you to know that I love you, but that I also trust you. Like, really trust you.” Now Kurt is frowning, speaking through the furrowed brows and confusion.

“What…I mean, how do you mean? Have I done something?”

“No, no. Not like that. Just…you know.... I trust you.”

“Ok, well… I trust you too?” Kurt is obviously confused, his voice lilting a bit, but Blaine isn’t listening for nuance, he’s already pouncing on the little opening he’s been presented with.

“Do you?” The moment the words are out of his mouth, he feels it, a simmering heaviness coating the air. Kurt is taking his hand back and looking at him with a sort of hurting in his eyes, and Blaine has to close his to protect himself. He has to get these words said, he has to find a way to figure this out, and he won’t make five seconds with Kurt looking at him like that.

“No, wait…” He’s almost stuttering, rushing words out before he’s had a chance to weigh them, and maybe that is better because thinking everything though so god damn much really just served to delay any progress he’s ever made as far as Kurt is concerned. “Please don’t do that thing, you know the thing where you shut people out. I’m not saying that to be cruel or because…of anything I just…I’m confused.” He opens his eyes, breathing and hoping.

“About?”

“I don’t know, stuff…you. It feels like sometimes when I touch you…you like it?” It’s a question unintended, and he’s tugging nervously at the buttons of his shirt and not quite managing to make eye contact, “But then sometimes, I don’t know…the littlest touch seems to shut you down and I don’t know what I’ve done or what’s going on, and to be honest it’s confusing the hell out of me.” Blaine darts a look up at Kurt, and stops talking, Kurt’s face is a study of coldness and Blaine can see the effort he is putting into constructing his front, into shutting Blaine out. His voice is even, wintry and Blaine can feel himself curling up, unsure and defensive.

“So this isn’t a trust thing you wanted to talk about. It’s a sex thing. Wow that’s…really special.” It’s almost funny, they way Kurt manages to lace sarcasm into the words and the air and right through Blaine’s stomach. “One declaration of love and suddenly it’s pushy Blaine, right?”

“No, hey, come on.” Kurt is already unfolding, unfurling himself into the cold air he’s created, retreating back to his vanity. “Kurt that’s not what I meant at all, come on-“

“I think you’d better go.” Kurt doesn’t speak to him, instead choosing to speak into the mirror, letting his reflection do the talking, and Blaine has a moment of weirdness where he’s sort of wondering objectively how things have gone so wrong. But then he’s shaking his head and barreling ahead, knowing there isn’t much he can do to make this worse anyway.

“No, Kurt,” He’s trying for reason, unbending but still somehow tentative, “I live two hours away. We planned to spend the day together.” He’s standing next to Kurt, then kneeling, that far away part of his mind a little amused, because none of this is even registering in his brain before he’s doing it.

“Just hear me out. I’ll say what I have to say and then if you are still mad you can go downstairs or I can or…something, and we’ll think and calm down and come back here. You can’t always throw me out when you aren’t ready to hear what I have to say. This won’t work if we do that.” His voice drops at the end, something soft and unspoken and so so fragile caught in the air between them. Wondering where they go from here, knowing that how they navigate this will chart the way for how they will work together in the future.

And for a moment, he’s glad. Blaine is thrilled that he’s said it, that he’s opened this door, even as the prolonged silence unspools his resolve.

“Ok.” Kurt breathes, still not looking at Blaine, fingers twisted almost white in his lap, and Blaine leans gratefully into the word.

“Ok.” His hands are shaking and his knees hurt where he is kneeling and Blaine doesn’t want to, won’t move for anything in the world. “I’m not interested in pushing your boundaries, or finding out how far I can get or even in the what’s or the how’s of…us and you know…sex.” Kurt’s brow is already up before he’s finished and Blaine has to sigh, annoyed and frustrated and scared to be honest but unwilling to do this any other way.

“Ok, so I am interested in the sense that yes, I think you are gorgeous and sexy and you make me kind of a little crazy. But that’s not what I am talking about right now.” Daring a little, he tries to take Kurt’s hand which is still rigid, and settles for laying it on top of Kurt’s. “I need you to trust me. I need you to know that I won’t push and that I would never try to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe. But it’s hard because I don’t know how to avoid it. I can’t figure out why some things are ok and some aren’t and I end up feeling like an asshole because I’ve pushed you too far without even realizing I’ve done it and…that’s just…that’s not what I want for us.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok, I’ve heard what you have to say. And now I am going to go bake something.”

“You’re going to bake?” Blaine is incredulous and confused.

“Yes, because I need time to think and baking is good for that. And because when we make up, if that’s even what we need to do, brownies are a great way to say I’m sorry.” Kurt looks up, fierce and still a little hard around the edges. “I’m not sorry right now, I’m upset and I’m not sure if I am right to be or what to think, so I’m going to bake.”

 

“Ok.” Taking what he can get, Blaine moves back, giving his boyfriend room and space, choosing to settle on Kurt’s bed with an old copy of Vogue that’s been left on the night table. When the door closes behind Kurt, Blaine simply closes his eyes, replaying each moment of that conversation, hoping that somehow they will find a way to talk about not only this, but everything. Hoping he’s found a way to break down this last wall that stands between them, Kurt’s reluctance and fear. It isn’t that Blaine wants to have sex, although yes, obviously he does. Maybe not now, but just…sometime. Now he just wants to be able to talk to Kurt about it, to explore who they are and where they are going and just…be in this experience with Kurt, along for the ride together, whichever way they end up going.


	3. Chapter 3

6)

When the door opens, Blaine has to make an effort to calm his heart, which seems to have lodged itself up in his throat somewhere. Kurt is unreadable, blank and composed, and Blaine hates this, hates the space between them. They’re so rarely like this, unsure and stilted.

“Brownies?” It’s part hope and part icebreaker. Kurt laughs a little, fond and self conscious at the same time.

“They do have to bake first.” The tone, snippy and a little bitchy, is all Blaine needs to feel, a bloom of smile and relief moving over his face. This is his boy, who is tart and gentle and unsure but so sure, somehow. Kurt is speaking, barely pausing, and Blaine has to force himself to keep up, to pick himself up out of the relief and comfort and just God, massive amounts of love.

“I thought about what you said, and I do have to apologize. I shouldn’t have tried to kick you out, and…” Kurt is worrying his lip between his teeth and Blaine breathes his way through an urge to lean over and worry it for him… “I- I’m not…I’m not prude you know.” He’s almost defiant, but not quite able to look Blaine in the face, feeling his cheeks flush. 

“There’s just…it’s….a lot of stuff. I’ve never been able to see myself in..that way. Being with someone…like that. I’ve spent so much time having to watch myself, who I look at and how I touch and not looking or touching, even when it doesn’t mean anything…because even the guys who know me and like me act like they are going to catch gay from me or something.” Kurt, his Kurt, is red and stuttering, running over his words fast and embarrassed and each one hurts a separate little part of Blaine, who understands how hard the world can be. They are knee to knee on Kurt’s bed again and he’s putting his hands on Kurt’s knees, thumbs brushing just inside his thighs, and he doesn’t mean it to be anything but comfort. But the way Kurt freezes then forces himself, with a little hitch and a breath, to accept and relax into the touch, just breaks Blaine a little more.

“Blaine…it’s not that I don’t want to…be with you and I don’t know, be touched or kiss you. I mean…I am a teenage boy too. But this is just so new and scary and it’s so hard to separate the way I’ve always seen myself and held myself and just be. Sometimes, I forget.” The dreamy tone and the sort of sigh in his voice are melting him, and Blaine feels himself warming all the way through, fingers and toes buzzing and wanting and waiting. “I forget to be careful, and you touch me or kiss me and I’m not even thinking about anything but now nice it is, how good it feels to be close to you.”

“Good.” Blaine is smiling, a little thing, hands squeezing against the tight line of Kurt’s jeans, “Because I love being close to you, and making you feel good, and how amazing you make me feel.”

And they’re smiling, then laughing, and mid laugh Kurt’s leaning into him, leaning into his breath and his lips and his tongue and then there’s no more laughter, just a sweet sort of intimacy. Apology and love and desire, and it’s all awkward angles because they are still knee to knee and Blaine isn’t sure where to anchor himself so his hands are still on Kurt’s legs and Kurt’s hand is behind his neck and its just so fucking perfect.

7) . 

And it’s minutes later when they hear the door slam downstairs and they break apart, all warmth and damp lips and fullness. There’s a lull, in which Kurt seems to be thinking, or listening, before he speaks again. Then Kurt is rolling his eyes, but he’s not angry and they both know that the time has past for many things, but that it is just right for this moment and this conversation. It is fascinating, to Blaine, the way Kurt is managing to blush even more, flushing in a wave down his neck and Blaine can just see it rolling down his collarbones, exposed now that Kurt has taken off his bowtie and undone a few buttons.

“I’m sorry. For when I pull away or freeze up.” And now he is direct, his eyes, his pretty eyes that aren’t any color but so many, are not afraid to look right at Blaine. “I get scared sometimes because I don’t know what to expect. When I’m already nervous or uptight and I worry about where you want to go and what you want to do. I don’t want to disappoint you, and I…I don’t want to be so scared that…nothing ever happens.”

“Kurt-“ Blaine tries to jump in, but Kurt is barreling right past him.

“It’s just in my head, I can’t stop thinking, you know, you’re a guy and you know about sex and I don’t know, maybe you’ve even had sex, and god that’s not even something I should be saying, but it’s there, and I just don’t want to drive you away because I’m acting like some little kid and I just need some time to learn to see myself in that sort of context.”

Before he can censor himself, before Kurt has even managed to finish his ridiculous rant, Blaine is snorting with laughter.

“Blaine.” Even the edges in tone don’t stop him now, because somehow Blaine has managed to find his footing and he’s digging in, filled up and full with the knowledge that yes he loves this boy and yes he trusts him and yes, absolutely yes, this is going to be ok. It could be painful, or awkward, or they might end up yelling or crying or everything, fuck everything could be fine and they’ll move on, but it is all good because he understands that he doesn’t just trust Kurt, he trusts them, who they are as a couple.

“Kurt,” he’s still giggling a little, “Come on honey, calm down.” Kurt colors, and it’s so pretty, but he’s putting on his haughty face and they both know it’s just a charade. Because its so sweet, it’s devotion and earnestness filling him, because Blaine, who loves him, who kisses him like his lips are water and chocolate and love, just called him honey.

Blaine is touching him again without realizing, running a gentle finger over the rounded curve of Kurt’s knee, “First of all, we’re both teenage boy,so I’m not even sure how you managed to use that as an argument for me being a sex fiend and you not being ready or something…so…moving past that.” He takes a deep breath, trying to barrel through embarrassment and just be honest and present because he maybe doesn’t know much, but Blaine is pretty sure that being able to talk to each other about this is the only thing that’s going to get them through it, “For the record, I’m 100% a virgin. I don’t know where you’d get the idea that I wouldn’t be…I mean you know you’re my first boyfriend. I’ve kissed a guy before, but that’s it.” He’s trying to catch Kurt’s eye, hearing his boyfriends little sigh.

“Kurt…I don’t want you to be scared or worried about me expecting anything, and god knows I would never pressure you do to anything you aren’t ready for. And I promise, the only thing you could do in this situation that would disappoint me, is if you didn’t tell me when you aren’t comfortable or ready for something.” Kurt twitches a shoulder, understanding and assent, still looking down, tracing lace patterns on the back of Blain’s hands, which are tracing circles into the denim of Kurt’s jeans. “The truth is, is that I’m not ready for a lot of stuff either. I’m scared and nervous and I have no idea what I’m doing. Wanting things, or…fantasizing,” he almost chokes on the word, forcing himself to finish this out “About…stuff...it isn’t the same thing as being ready for it. So when I asked if you trusted me, I guess I just meant, like, trusted me to love you and take care of you and not push you.” Kurt is looking at him in a whole different way, open and not at all guarded and Blaine knows that he sounds as young as he feels in this moment. “I want us to trust each other, to talk when things get scary, and not to freak out if one of us accidentally crosses a boundary the other isn’t ready for.”

And it must have been Finn coming in, and Kurt has to have known, maybe that is why he was listening, because he’s unfolded and moving. Blaine’s lap and hands and mouth are full of Kurt smell and Kurt taste, apologies and eagerness and the firm smooth pull of muscle under what feels like forty five layers of clothing. And this, just this, is all Blaine needs for now, nothing more or less, no pushing or pressuring, just this sweet, delicate moment full of boy and lust and yes, just so so much yes.


End file.
